


Midnight Sea

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, D/s, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Pre-Series, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a natural lake in front of him, and he realizes that he must have accidentally stumbled onto Hale land, just as he spies the swimmer in the water. The hunter steps back to hide behind a tree, admiring the smooth, even strokes, appreciating the excellent form. And then the swimmer reaches the dock and pulls himself out of the water, and Chris appreciates that form a whole lot more. The guy - Hale definitely, werewolf probably - has nothing on but a pair of those tiny swimmer's briefs that do absolutely nothing to hide anything, and he's all lean muscle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyberrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/gifts).



> Prompt: Peter in tight little swimming trunks

Chris Argent is stomping through the woods, not even really hunting the deer that he'd come out for, rifle carelessly held, just _fuming_ about his father and this damned arranged marriage idea, when he bursts from the treeline into a clearing.

There's a natural lake in front of him, and he realizes that he must have accidentally stumbled onto Hale land, just as he spies the swimmer in the water. The hunter steps back to hide behind a tree, admiring the smooth, even strokes, appreciating the excellent form. And then the swimmer reaches the dock and pulls himself out of the water, and Chris appreciates that form a whole lot more.

The guy - Hale definitely, werewolf probably - has nothing on but a pair of those tiny swimmer's briefs that do absolutely nothing to hide anything, and he's _all_ lean muscle.

Hale flops onto his back, eyes closed, seemingly soaking in the sun, and then he stretches, arching and writhing with it. Chris is suddenly flooded with _want_ , and he must make some sort of sound – who wouldn't, because the guy goes from relaxed pup to vicious wolf in a heartbeat.

Chris can see the glint of claws, and the flash of blue eyes that means he's a killer as he sits up and looks around. The hunter is rooted to the spot, fingers tightening around his useless rifle.

Hale looks _right_ at Chris, the hunter feeling a jolt as those gorgeous eyes connect with his, and there's a long minute where Chris wonders if his shitty day is about to get much, much worse.

And then Hale slowly relaxes, banishes his claws and untenses rigid muscles. The wolf just lays back down on the dock, and Chris can't decide if the man is breathtakingly arrogant, or if he has no idea what a threat the hunter actually is.

Chris hesitates, uncertain, and then the werewolf lifts his hand and slides it down his abdomen, straight down, _slowly_ , until he's cupping himself over the spandex. The hunter shakes his head minutely, because he can't process what he's seeing for a moment, and then the corners of his lips quirk up in approval. The magnificent bastard is actually _toying_ with the watching man, sliding his hand along his barely covered cock, shifting his hips upward as he strokes himself.

Chris _knows_ it's a bad idea, but right now he doesn't really care, because he's already half-hard at the sight before him. He leaves the plausible safety of the treeline, leaves his rifle leaning against the tree, and he stalks towards the dock, still wary.

Hale never wavers, and he _can't_ be that far gone, has to know that Argent is walking towards him, Chris is making no effort to be quiet. He just keeps stalking forward, walks right up to the dock, and the wolf shamelessly jacking himself off on it.

Hale never stops, but he opens his eyes, lets them spark with that supernatural blue as he meets the hunter's gaze. And Chris _wants_ with a ferocity that he's never felt before.

It's obvious the werewolf likes the attention, even Chris' human ears can hear the way his breath speeds up, can see how desperately he's arching into his own hand. So Chris kneels down next to him, dares to reach a hand out, runs a finger along the straining cords of the wolf's neck.

“Mm, you are a _pretty_ boy, aren't you?”

Chris doesn't know if it's because he's watching, or if it's the obvious approval in his voice, but that seems to be the last straw for Hale, and he jerks with a gasp, coming in his shorts, right there under the hunter's gaze, eyes still locked with Chris'.

Hale slowly lifts his hand, never once shifting his gaze, and brings it to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste himself on it.

There's barely a ring of blue around the pupils of the hunter's eyes as Chris watches the werewolf lick his hand clean, more like a cat than a wolf. He almost groans aloud as Hale sticks two fingers in his mouth and hollows his cheeks, sucking on them.

Chris is so _fucked_ because he needs to have the wolf; needs to take him, _break_ him, make him Chris' completely. He's not even thinking, not even registering that this wolf could easily kill him when he grabs a handful of Hale's hair to hold him in place.

Chris leans in, pulls the younger man to him, crushing his lips to Hale's. It's barely a heartbeat before he's thrusting his tongue between those soft lips to taste the wolf, laying claim to his mouth.

“Mine,” Chris whispers as he pulls away, uncaring that he doesn't know the werewolf's name, that the younger man _is_ a wolf. This one is his.

He's proven right by the way the werewolf’s eyes spark again, and then Chris does the most difficult thing he's done in a long, long while.

He get up and walks away.

-

Chris manages to make it about fifty feet into the woods before he cracks, leaning his back against a tree and taking a few deep breaths. Now that the adrenaline and hormones are subsiding, he can't even believe what he's just done.

He's fairly certain the wolf didn't follow him, but he waits for confirmation, listening to the birds and the sounds of the forest for interruption.

Closing his eyes, he relives the scene all over again, fingers flying to tug down his zipper, groaning aloud into the forest as he finally gets a hand around his aching cock, and it hasn't flagged a bit since he saw Hale first slide his hand down his body.

Chris swiftly gets into a rhythm, he's not taking his time here, not that it would take him long in the first place. All he has to do is imagine the werewolf on his knees in front of Chris, lips greedily wrapping around the cock that the hunter feeds to him. And Hale would be eager, Chris fantasizes, desperate to taste the older man, fucking _whining_ for it, blue eyes wide open, staring up as Chris fucks right into his throat.

In an embarrassingly short time, Chris is spilling over his fist, in his mind's eyes painting Hale's face, and then he slumps back against the tree until he catches his breath.

He cleans off with a rag from his pocket that he usually uses to wipe down the rifle, and then tucks his dick away, sighing as he heads back to his apartment uptown.

He wonders if he'll ever see Hale again.

-

Peter watches the hunter go, and _of course_ he knows what the man's occupation is - he's got the best nose of the family, watches that tight, jean covered ass walk away. He lays back his head and closes his eyes and wonders at which point he lost control, because he just wanted to teach an asshole hunter a lesson, and instead ended up performing for him like a pet on a leash.

Peter's face flames as he recalls the voice, rough with desire, claiming him afterward, and he groans and hits the back of his head against the dock a few times. Does the hunter even know what that means to a werewolf? He _has_ to, don't hunters study wolf culture? But then, why did he walk away? Just up and leave Peter wanting more?

The questions swirl around the werewolf's mind as he dives back into the water, swims until he's exhausted and the scent of gunpowder is gone. Mustn't let his sister, his _Alpha_ , find out.

It takes three days for Peter to break, for him to start sniffing the air randomly through town, hoping to catch a hint of the hunter.

He catches the man's scent finally, on a woman, which makes him want to bare his fangs and rip out her throat. But he doesn't, holding himself back and following her until she finally goes to a loft uptown, knocks on the door, and there he is, Peter's hunter. The wolf bites back a growl as the woman wraps her arms around the older man, but then Peter's sharp ears catch her calling him big brother. He relaxes, calms down enough to wait out her visit, to listen to the mostly banal conversation, though he does catch his hunter's name.

Chris.

-

Peter waits until the older man's gone to bed, then slowly he creeps up the fire escape, carefully testing the window for traps, and then slinks in through it.

Eyes glow brilliant blue as they trace Chris' form under the sheet, _there's_ the body he wanted to see that day at the lake, all sprawled and on display, and he needs a taste, desperately.

He climbs right on top of the hunter, pins the man with his body, and goes right for the neck. Peter licks a broad swath before scraping his teeth along the skin, rolling his hips where they're straddling the older man's.

He's not prepared for the speed or the strength of the hunter, who's been awake all along, waiting to see what the werewolf would do. Before Peter can do anything, Chris has him pinned, one hand wrapped around the werewolf's neck, while the hunter's other hand slides lower to tease.

“Came back for more, did you, pup?”

Peter almost whines as the hunter's hand squeezes his crotch, unbelievably turned on by having this man holding him down, dominating him though Peter is easily twice as strong. And he's already parting his legs for Chris, pressing into that hand, biting back pleading noises, because the hunter isn't giving him _enough_.

“Look at how greedy you are, I bet you'd beg me, wouldn't you, Hale?” Peter's eyes flash and his upper lip curls back in a snarl, but he can't deny the way his cock twitches under the palm of the older man, who chuckles as he gazes over Peter's body. “I thought so. Especially after that shameless display at the lake.”

Peter squirms beneath him, skin flushed as Chris keeps talking to him, keeps a running stream of filth mixed with compliments going, arching upward as the hunter slides his hand along the canvas fabric that Peter's cock is straining against. Chris' other hand squeezes around the werewolf's throat tightly, cutting off more and more of his air, until he's panting for breath.

Peter doesn't move his hands from where they're bunched at his sides, not once, simply curling them into Chris' sheets, twisting the fabric as he shifts beneath the hunter.

When Chris pulls both his hands away at the same time, Peter fucking _whimpers_ , and then he's embarrassed by it, flushes even more when the hunter smirks in satisfaction. Peter snarls at the older man again, but it's half-hearted and quickly turns into a shocked gasp as Chris grabs hold of the v-neck Peter is wearing, and just fucking _tears_ it right down the middle.

It's damned hot, but that shirt was _designer_ , and Peter is just about to complain when he feels Chris' hands at his fly, tugging the zip down. He briefly loses all higher brain function, as Chris roughly yanks Peter's jeans down, tossing them behind him on the floor.

The hunter's hands circle Peter's ankles, pushing them far apart, just _looking_ at the werewolf. Peter is about to demand he do something, when Chris' hands start sliding far too slowly up Peter's legs, skate teasingly across the younger mans' thighs, then firmly push them apart. The position is slightly uncomfortable, and Peter has _never_ felt so on display before. His dick twitches under the ice blue gaze, and Chris' lips twist in a smug grin, and then his hands slide underneath, thumbs sliding down the cleft of Peter's ass, as the older man's fingers curl around the side to bite into soft flesh bruisingly.

Chris pulls the globes of Peter's ass apart, crouching down now to look at his wolf's tight little pucker, lifting the pad of one thumb to rub across it gently. Peter jerks as the motion sends a spark of electricity up his spine.

There's that soft, low chuckle again, and Chris' hands withdraw. “That's what you want, isn't it Hale?” The hunter climbs onto the bed, hooking Peter's knees on his shoulders and crawling forward until the werewolf is bent in half. “You want to be _fucked_ , want that sweet little hole to be used, want me to claim you, to make you mine.”

Chris' hips gyrate against Peter, and the wolf can feel the rigid length separated from his skin only by the soft cotton of Chris' sleep pants. The hunter leans in and nips viciously at Peter's lower lip, then dives down into the werewolf's mouth, fucks into it with his tongue as he slides his clothed dick along Peter's hole.

Chris' hands roam across the werewolf's chest, making a rumbling noise of pleasure when his thumb slide across once of Peter's nipples, and the wolf twitches under him.

“Oh, are those _sensitive_ , pup?” Chris' voice is mocking as he repeats the maneuver after pulling away from the wolf's lips. The answer would seem to be yes as Peter rocks again when Chris lifts his free hand to tease at both nipples simultaneously. But Chris wants to hear the werewolf beg, so he moves his hands away, bracing them on either side of the younger man's body.

Peter whimpers again, eyes sparking blue as he looks up at the hunter demandingly.

“Something the matter Hale?” Chris mocks as he rolls his hips again. “Tell me what you want.”

Peter scowls even as his face flushes again, mumbles, “You know what I want.”

Chris simply arches a brow down at him, stills his hips, and waits.

The werewolf grits his teeth, arches his chin defiantly, but he does what Chris demands, licks his lips once and then blurts it out. “I want you to _fuck_ me, that's why I'm here.”

“That's my good boy,” Chris murmurs as he starts moving again, grinding his cock into Peter's ass. “And I will. I will fuck you so hard even you will feel it for days. But,” he says as he lifts his hands, each latching onto one of Peter's sensitive nipples, “not today.”

The wolf's eyes narrow and he's growling subvocally, when the hunter starts rolling his nipples in those long clever fingers, and then there's a hot mouth on one, providing unbelievable suction, and Peter completely forgets what he's about to say.

His cock is drooling precome against his hip, another dribble leaking out as Chris _finally_ puts a hand on it, swiping his thumb over the head right as his teeth close down, scraping against the tight bud of Peter's nipple. The tearing of the sheets in Peter's hands is audible in the quiet room, and Chris huffs a laugh as he pulls back and blows cool air across the puffy red peak.

“No, pup, I'm not going to fuck you today, because you have yet to earn that.” Chris' hand slides along Peter's length between them, and there's something the werewolf would say to that, if he could _think_. And then the hand on his dick vanishes and Peter bites back the needy whine, and then there are two fingers pressing between his lips. The wolf opens his mouth eagerly, closing the hot, wet heat around the intrusion, slides his tongue along them and tastes himself before sucking in earnest.

“That's it, Hale, get them nice and sloppy wet.” Chris' free hand goes to his waistband, tugging it down and freeing his own cock, fisting it with a groan. His eyes close briefly, then open to watch Peter, soon adding a third finger to the werewolf's mouth, fucking into it with the same rhythm.

Chris stops before he can get too close, pulls back, away from Peter, smirks at the noise the younger man makes. “Patience, pup.”

Chris settles himself against the headboard on the left side of the bed, crooks a finger at the wolf, whose cheeks flame but he obeys anyway, rolling over and crawling up to the older man. Chris arranges the wolf so that he's on hands and knees at the hunter's side.

“Now reach behind and hold yourself open for me.” Peter squirms, but does as commanded, and Chris can't help the rumble of pleasure that comes from him as the werewolf obeys. He lifts one spit-slick finger and rubs it around the tight pucker on display, teases Peter like that for several minutes before he dips it in, fucking the wolf with it until he can get the second in. “Oh you feel so good, Hale, can't wait to get my cock in you, to fuck you in that tight little hole.”

Chris scissors his fingers, stretching Peter as his other hand goes back to his dick, stripping it as he finger fucks the werewolf. He adds a third finger now, moaning aloud at the way the velvet tightness squeezes around him, and the way that Peter just _takes_ it, holds position only at Chris' word.

And it's that last thought that sends Chris over the edge, shoving a fourth finger hard into Peter as he comes in his own hand, hot streams of fluid painting his stomach and chest.

Chris takes a deep breath as he slides his hand free of Peter, lips twitching as the wolf whimpers like a puppy.

“Clean me up,” Chris orders hoarsely, and the wolf eagerly complies, turning to lave his tongue across Chris' chest, and then moving lower to catch every drop before carefully sliding his mouth along Chris' softening cock.

It's not until Peter takes the hunter's fingers into his mouth, sucking them all individually, that Chris praises him, telling him how well he did, how happy Chris is that he followed orders. Peter's neglected erection jumps at the words and Chris chuckles as he pulls away the wolf once again.

Peter's eyes flash dangerously as Chris leaves him, picks up his pajama pants and slides them back on, but he waits to see what the hunter will do.

Chris lets his gaze roam across all the exposed flesh stretched across his bed. “Kneel up, back to me,” Chris says at last, waiting while the wolf obeys, somewhat sulkier now.

The hunter steps between Peter's feet, presses his chest against the werewolf's back. “Now, pup,” he rumbles low into Peter's ear. “You're going to get yourself off.”

Chris reaches around and gets a hand on each nipple, skates the pads of his thumbs across them before he starts plucking at them, teasing and twisting and pulling, while the werewolf wraps his hand around himself and starts stroking.

Chris' left hand leaves off teasing after a moment, slides down into the part of Peter's ass, still slick and puffy from the earlier assault, and he dips two fingers in, searches for that special spot while blunt human nails scrape across the abused nipples.

Chris knows he's found it when Peter jerks and cries out softly, and he bites down on Peter's neck _hard_ , as he assaults the bundle of nerves inside.

“Beg me, pup, beg me for release.”

And so help him he _does_ , Peter babbles pleas and entreaties, whimpers them out because he's _so close_ , and then Chris growls out, “Now!” and slams his fingers into Peter, viciously twisting that nipple. The younger man's body tenses, shudders violently, shouting out into the room as he comes, as the hot spurts arc onto the sheets.

“Keep going,” Chris demands, and Peter does, keeps his hand moving until he's whimpering from overstimulation. It's only then that Chris withdraws, pushing the shaking wolf down face forward, gruffly ordering him to clean up his mess.

Peter is still sucking his come from the fabric when Chris returns from the bathroom with a warm washcloth. Chris gently wipes him down, cleaning up the werewolf's hand and face. Then he settles on the opposite side of the bed, tugging the exhausted wolf to him, strokes a hand through his hair gently until Peter falls asleep, safe in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Chris is 24 in this fic, Peter is 18.**  
>     
> Inspiration: Holy Diver by Dio
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything. 
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


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